


You can never go home again

by chailover



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angels, Gen, Hunters, avengers and spn fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chailover/pseuds/chailover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From/For Avengerkink - Prompt: Tony is a hunter struggling to live up to his dad's legend. Steve is Tony's partner, and Steve is -- well, Steve isn't quite human. Don't tell Tony.<br/></p><p>Originally prompted <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/1854.html?thread=161598#t161598">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You can never go home again

**Author's Note:**

> It's a crossover/fusion (?)/AU with Supernatural. The hilarious thing is that reading something on the Thor kinkmeme was what got me into Supernatural in the first place, and SPN tided me over until the Avengers. And now I've gone full circle...

**

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he crossed paths with Steve Rogers on one of his earliest hunts (after the ghost in Arkansas, before the poltergeist in Washington), one that turned out not to be vampires but vetala, and two years later, he was still hunting with the man. Tony had wanted to hunt alone - had planned to, in every scenario he ran before he left, because if his father could do it, then so could he. But he had hesitated by the hospital bed after the vetala hunt debacle and felt the familiar, sickening sensation of guilt at the sight of the blond man in it, arm and leg in casts, a bandage wrapped around his head.

Tony should have just paid for the hospital stay, but he couldn’t just leave. If he hadn’t been so caught up with his argument with Steve during their temporary alliance on the hunt, they might’ve both seen the monster coming, and Steve wouldn’t be in traction. There were precautions that he could take, but paranoia was a way of life for hunters - he had just started, and even he knew that. Leaving Steve alone in the hospital after what amounted to a very loud declarations of ‘Hunters were here!’ to the general supernatural creatures community in the vicinity...if anything happened, it would be blood on his hands.

So, he stayed and kept watch. Rented a motel room for a week after Steve was discharged sooner than expected (turned out the wrist and ankle weren’t broken, just badly sprained) and brought the man water, pills, the TV remote and food with copious amounts of bitching.

The bitching somehow convinced Steve that he was in Tony’s debt, as if Tony was doing him some sort of favor instead of assuaging his own guilt,  and after the casts came off, he earnestly turned his baby blues on Tony, which made him trail off mid-ramble about wendigos in Minnesota.

“...it sounds like you can use some help.” Steve had said. “Let me help.”

And after wendigos, it was the poltergeist. Tony was new at this but he had always been a very fast learner when motivated, and he could tell that Steve was really, really good. Like, accurate to 500 meters - in the dark, while in motion- good, like able to almost go toe-to-toe with a vampire good.

“You’re unreal.” Tony had gaped, looking down at the mess of claws and fangs, all that was left of their latest hunt.

“I had some training in the army,” Steve had replied modestly, falsely, “I was a captain.” Tony might not have been involved in that side of combative strategies when it came to the armed forces (his involvement had been mostly on the incendiary devices side, and then not even that, after Afghanistan), but there was no way Steve’s skills were from the army.

But then he thought about the seal in the center of his chest, his souvenir from Afghanistan. About the dark and howling thing that had hovered at the edge of his vision when he was prone on the sofa, Obie’s face grinning skull-like above him, the knife dripping blood from where it broke skin, broke the circle, and shrugged.

“Sure, whatever you say, Cap.”

**

And so, they hunted. One year in, and they had managed to sand down or readjust the corners of their personalities that grated on each others’ nerves the most. They were working together like a well oiled machine on the field, bickering like an old married couple while off, and Tony only managed to make Steve throw his hands up in frustration maybe twice a week. Tony thought that the all-American, all too wholesome boy-next-door thing Steve had going would’ve driven him crazy within the first month, but in addition to all his goodness, Steve had a deadpan sense of humor that Tony would’ve never suspected. He was all business in the field, the perfect soldier and hunter, but a slightly dorky guy off it, with some strong inclinations toward mother-henning.

Case in point: he folded his clothes and rolled his socks, packing his bags with military precision while Tony threw whatever it was that he needed into his duffel haphazardly, and he frowned at Tony’s cheeseburgers and made him eat fruits and vegetables against his will.

“He’s unreal.” Tony whined to Pepper one morning, when Steve was still out on his daily jog.

“He got you to eat vegetables?” Pepper replied dryly over the line. “Is there any way I can talk to him? Maybe he can get you to come back and fulfill your duties as Chief R&D Officer.”

“Nice try, Miss CEO,” Tony shot back. “And I AM fulfilling my duties, didn’t you get the specs that I sent you, like, three weeks ago?” A thought occurred to him. “So, was it viable? I kind of had to improvise the first version since I couldn’t get to one of the labs, but I did add the notes about using the quad-threading and I’m sure someone can tweak the error minimization formulas on the coding.”

“Yes, it works, Tony,” Pepper interjected smoothly when he paused to take a breath. “The professors at Columbia are beside themselves. All the projections indicate that the readings on your machine would be more accurate than anything currently being used, by leaps and bounds. Once we build a prototype, all the major astrophysics labs would be ordering one.”

He let out a sigh. It was really rather ironic - studying the science behind ghosts and their energy, translated into technologically advanced electromagnetic wave sensing instrumentation. “Happy birthday, then?”

“I still have to wrangle the board members next week, they all want to know why their Chief R&D Officer is still MIA.” A pause, then her voice softened. “It’s been over two years, Tony.”

Over one year since he saw that old vid-reel, left by his father, with its shocking truths. One year since he struck out by himself, determined to prove that he could be just as good - no, better - than his father. Almost two years since Afghanistan, the seal, and the start of the hunt for the thing that took away his chance to prove it the normal way.

“I’ll leave the wrangling to you, then, Miss Potts.” He said, not answering her silent question, _when are you coming home?_

**

Things fell into a routine: hunt with Steve, check in with Pepper, butt up against some new creature or monster that required he build something equally new to neutralize it. Occasionally, when he got sick of the motels, he dragged Steve to one of his various pads around the country, under the pretense that it belonged to a ‘friend’ who was okay with letting them crash there a few days.

Then Steve had gotten a call when they were on their way out of their motel for the week, a call that made his lips thin, the color draining from his face. Tony had raised an eyebrow and hefted his duffel, jerking his chin toward his Lexus - not his favorite car, by far, but the least flashy and easiest to maintain on the road.

“Tony,” Steve stood on the steps, like he was rooted there. His knuckles were white against the phone and Tony could almost hear the casing groan with strain. “I..I can’t. I have to go.”

“You’re planning to walk to wherever you’re going?” Tony asked archly.

Steve took a deep breath. “I can take a bus or something. I have to go. You can’t come with me.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Get in the car, winghead.”

“Tony, you don’t understand...” Steve’s look turned beseeching, but Tony had gained immunity like, one month in. It was necessary for survival. The look was also extra easy to ignore when Steve was being stupid. “It’s too dangerous.”

“...were you here for the last three days? You know, during our hunt for a whole _werewolf pack_?” Tony replied incredulously. “And that wasn’t somehow too dangerous?”

“Tony...” Steve stared him in the eye and said three words that made his heart almost stop. His vision even tunneled for a second, and he could hear his own heartbeat as if from very far away.

“...Get in the car.” Tony said, sure now that his face was just as pale as Steve’s, a part of him almost amused at the look of worry and confusion on the other man’s face now, instead of just the tight-lipped pinched expression of fear and anger from earlier.

“Tony -”

“Get in the car, and tell me what direction to go.” He managed a smile, and thought he could hear shrieking laughter at the back of his head.

Steve shook his head and repeated, “It’s a _demon_ , Tony.”

Tony laughed. The dark thing inside him laughed too. “I’m in.” he said. “If it’s a demon, then I am _so fucking in_.”

**

“West.” Steve said, gazing steadily outside from the passenger’s seat. “Head west.”

Of course, they end up in fucking Los Angeles.

**

Tony didn’t remember much, which was either better or worse than not remembering anything, depending on who you ask. There was an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Van Nuys. Demons wearing the faces of Steve’s loved ones, judging from Steve’s reaction. Getting separated on their desperate rush out. Being slammed repeatedly against hard surfaces (walls, tables, floors, even the ceiling, once), feeling his insides ripped apart, swarmed by black, oily smoke -

Only, the smoke had streamed into him, making him choke and gag and then he had threw it all back up, gasping for air as the demon-soul roiled around his knees where he had collapsed. The look of confusion on the head demon had been priceless, Tony had no idea how someone with a red skull for a face could do shock like that - no eyebrows, for one.

He got his shirt ripped open for that one. “...careful with the goods,” he had slurred, tasting blood in his mouth. “You break it, you buy it.”

“A Devil’s trap, a binding lock and an anti-possession seal.” The demon hissed, staring at the seal on Tony’s chest, inky black with metastasizing tendrils creeping out, reaching toward his heart, his jugular. “What insanity is this?”

 _A time bomb_ , Tony didn’t say, laughed instead. “Sorry, this property is not up for sublease - “ he coughed, feeling some of his ribs shift. Too much damage, and the demon inside him sure as hell can’t heal. Can keep him alive, maybe, keep him moving...can’t keep him from dying a minute at a time. But that’s really no different from life as usual. “ - no vacancies, and we’re currently double-booked.”

There was a slam at the door, and Tony remembered Steve standing there, breathing hard and angry, an almost palpable aura of power around him. One demon tried to tackle him and Steve grabbed it in the face, holding it there as the black eyes started glowing - no, as if the thing inside the body was glowing, flaring gold before it sputtered and died like candle-flame. The demon dropped and Steve turned toward them.

The red skull grinned grotesquely and something flashed in his hand. Tony barely felt the cut as the knife went in, to the right of his breastbone. Breaking just the edge of the Devil’s trap.

“Double-booked, huh?” He heard as the darkness rushed up, exultant. “Maybe the landlord should bow out once in awhile, and let the tenant have a party.”

**

He couldn’t move his hands. He couldn’t move his body either and for a moment, there was panic because he was back in that black place, where all he could feel was the suffocating evil pressing him down, everywhere, not letting him move or speak or even think... but it felt different there - for one, there hadn’t been pain. Right now, he felt like he got hit by a truck and there was light behind his eyelids, so it can’t be that bad. But he still couldn’t move his hands.

Tony forced his eyes to open, then spent a few more seconds trying to get them to focus. His hands -

Pepper was holding his left hand.

Steve was holding his right.

Both of them had their heads down, probably sleeping. “God, people,” he muttered, closing his eyes in relief. He vaguely remembered...demons. Demons can’t be good, but Steve and Pepper were here and fine and that meant the rest of the world could wait a little. He thought he heard Pepper call his name, but he went back under before he could do anything else.

**

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but they were back in his Malibu mansion, all alive and limbs intact. Tony knew Pepper had been out of the line of fire, and he knew Steve was made of sterner stuff than most, but he had honestly been ready to write himself off - the thing inside him had gotten out, and there was no getting it back in. Not to mention having it inside him was the only reason he was alive in the first place.

“That’s why you should’ve told me, Tony,” Steve said, strained. “I almost killed you, and I can’t...I wouldn’t’ve been able to live with that.”

“No, no,” Tony took a sip of his scotch, because this was a Talk and he needed fortification. “The glowy hand of exorcism was _good_ , Steve. No one wants me running around like that. Hell, I don’t want _myself_ running around like that. But since we’re on the subject - glowy hand of exorcism?? Is there something that you’re not telling me?”

Steve frowned. “You shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with painkillers.”

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t be alive either. Don’t change the subject.”

“That creature...we called him the Red Skull,” Steve said, reluctantly. “He used to be...on the other side of the group in a war we were fighting. He...came here, and I was sent to bring him in, or, if that’s not possible, neutralize him.”

“Very creative phrasing,” Tony nodded. “I give you an A+ for being astoundingly vague and completely unclear.”

“Tony.” Steve said, frustrated. “I’m - I was, an angel.”

Tony blinked. “Well, Pep always said that you’d have to be one to put up with me.” He joked. Steve didn’t crack a smile. Tony wanted to believe that he was using his poker face, but Steve’s poker face wasn’t that good. “...seriously? Like, little flying babies in diapers?”

“They’re not incontinent,” Steve glared. “That’s not the point, the point is -”

“Yeah, yeah, glowy hand of exorcism.” Tony finished the scotch in the tumbler and went for a refill. He got demons, he understood about demons. Angels, on the other hand... “So...you were just down here on special ops? Mission accomplished? Time to join the heavenly choir again?”

Because that made sense, to Tony at least. If he was an angel (hypothetically speaking, because Tony really couldn’t be less angelic if he went full bore and _tried_ ), on a mission, he totally would hop down to earth, find someone or someones with some expertise in hunting the supernatural, and tag along. Data collection would’ve been his first priority, and -

“Yes, yes, no.” Steve answered. “Tony, you’re not letting me finish.”

“What’s there to finish?” and damn, Steve would be going back. Leaving. He didn’t want to let Steve finish, he should get started on planning - decide if he wanted to return to the company, about what he should do about the demon clusterfuck, about hunting.

About hunting alone.

Tony turned to leave the room, snagging the bottle of scotch on the way out. He couldn’t - no, no, it was fine. His dad hunted alone, and he could do just as well as the old man. He could do _better_ , this was just a minor roadblock -

Steve was in front of him, one hand gripping his arm. How did he get there so fast? “Tony, wait. Where are you going?”

“To the labs,” Tony answered honestly. “I’m going to have to modify some of the equipment. What, did you need me to see you out? Throw you a farewell party? That’s a good idea, a party-”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Steve said firmly and Tony blinked. “I’m not. I can’t.”

“...can’t? What?”

Steve looked more exasperated than anything else, which was confusing because Tony was fairly sure Steve had just said he wasn’t going back to his comfy digs up in the cloudy kingdom of light and joy. Most people would be more upset. “I was trying to tell you, Tony. You suck at listening.”

“Slander,” Tony protested. “I’m an excellent listener, I’m sensitive and considerate and what do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go back. I’m sort of not really an angel anymore.”

“How does that even work?” Tony asked, forgetting about his plan to maneuver sneakily around Steve so he can make a break for the door. “You can’t ‘sort of’ not be an angel, just like you can’t just be ‘sort of’ pregnant.”

“Like I said,” Steve sighed, his hand dropping from Tony’s arm. “I killed that demon inside of you...and before I knew it, you were almost dead. I almost killed you.”

“Yeah, it was the only thing keeping me alive,” Tony nodded. “It was keeping like, massive internal damage from killing me. From...before. Not from this little romp.”

“I...yeah, that’s what I figured. I’ve seen what happens when a demon leaves the body they’re possessing.” Steve closed his eyes and Tony couldn’t help but notice how long those eyelashes were, especially against the paleness of Steve’s face.

He hated that look on Steve’s face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine now, see?”

“Yeah,” Steve looked like it was killing him to smile, but he did anyway. “You’re completely okay now, Tony.” He tapped a finger against Tony’s sternum. “You’re fine. You’re _free_.”

Tony blinked. Looked down at his chest. He thought the lack of pain was because of painkillers, because he remembered the feel of the knife going in, the burn of the seal as the demon tried to break free - his hands came up without conscious thought, and he pulled open the collar of his button-up, ripped a little frantically at the bandages. “Wh...what?”

The seal was gone. There was a faint impression left, like an old scar, barely noticeable, otherwise his skin was unmarred.  

“How?” he choked.

“I...healed you. Used up a lot of power, since a lot of the damage was so extensive and so old. I can’t go back now, so...” Steve shrugged, as if to say it’s no big deal that he tore up his ticket home, “I’m sticking around, earthside.”

“Steve...” Tony swallowed. He had to change the subject, fast, before he did something horribly embarrassing. He didn’t get it, how Steve could be so unconcerned about the fact that he couldn’t go home, just because he did something so pointless as saving Tony.

“Don’t look like that, it’s not going to be forever.” He wasn’t sure how Steve managed to peer up at Tony - Steve was taller than him by a handful of inches, but he did. “So, until then...Someone I know called, said they’ve got a haunted house up north. At least two spirits, from what he could tell.” His lips curled in a small smile, and his eyes were very, very blue. “I could use some help, if you’re not busy.”

Tony wanted to ask how long, if it wasn’t going to be forever, but he was pretty sure he used up his quota for meaningful dialog for the next three months or so. And in any case, he was feeling too relieved for anything else, really. “Salt and burns, Rogers? Classy. Real classy. I suppose I can spare the time and help out.” He gestured toward the door. “You gonna move and let me go pack? We can leave today, if you want.”

“Sure.”

“C’mon, then.” Tony took a deep breath. “We’ve got work to do.”  
 

**End  


**Author's Note:**

> As I had mentioned on the comm, it didn't turn out so much Steve/Tony as it did Steve & Tony with subtext like SPN had subtext. I really liked the fusion idea though, and there've been some excellent ones floating around...


End file.
